Peter said nothing, but looked the sympathy he felt. Presently Mrs.
Quack went on with her story. "We had a splendid big flock when we
started, made up wholly of pairs, each pair dreaming of the home
they would build when they reached the far North. Mr. Quack was
the leader as usual, and I flew right behind him. We hadn't gone
far before we began to hear the terrible guns, and the farther we
went, the worse they got. Mr. Quack led us to the safest feeding
and resting grounds he knew of, and for a time our flock escaped
the terrible guns. But the farther we went, the more guns there
were." Mrs. Quack paused and Peter waited.




XI

THE TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE GUNS


"Bang! Bang! Bang! Not a feather spare! Kill! Kill! Kill!
Wound and rip and tear!"

That is what the terrible guns roar from morning to night at Mrs.
Quack and her friends as they fly on their long journey to their
home in the far North. I don't wonder that she was terribly uneasy
and nervous as she sat in the Smiling Pool talking to Peter Rabbit;
do you?

"Yes," said she, continuing her story of her long journey from the
sunny Southland where she had spent the winter, "the farther we